


Finding your way to me

by molotovcakes



Series: Finding your way to me [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmates, depressed victor, mentions of victors childhood and family, yuri doesnt get drunk at the banquet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:06:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9203165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molotovcakes/pseuds/molotovcakes
Summary: A year has passed and The Grand Prix has begun again but Victor finds himself unable to find any joy in skating. After an embarrassing performance at the NHK Trophy he walks aimlessly through the streets of Japan until he finds himself in Hasetsu where he meets fellow ex-figure skater Yuri Katsuki. Can the two help each other rekindle their love of the ice? Or will they both be left empty?AU: Victor never watched Yuri skate his program and therefore never took the year off to coach him





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wrote [A love that never was](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8667352) as a bit of a joke but people asked me to write a continuation where they meet and so this was born! I hope you enjoy it! ^-^

Spotlights shone on the ice. They were bright- too bright. Victor took a deep breath before skating to the middle of the rink. The announcer's voice barely registered in his mind as the music started and he began his routine.

“Victor Nikiforov, five-time consecutive world champion, has taken to the ice. His theme this year is passion, and he will be skating his free skate to Beethoven's Kreutzer. Nikiforov placed first in the Rostelecom Cup in early November, and looks as if he has the best chance of making it to the Grand Prix once again this year.”

The announcer's voice was a fuzz in Victor's ears, and the arena a blur of colour. What was the story for this routine again? Oh right.

A young boy slowly stepping out into the world. Tentative at first, perhaps even a little scared. But he slowly grows more confident and comfortable. In the calm of his world, he finds himself and his dream. Soon the sights and sounds melt into a passionate collage and he goes on to make the world his own. 

It was meant to reflect Victor's own passion, both his past and present. 

But.

“Here comes his first jump. Triple lutz! Followed by a triple toe loop! Oh! Nikiforov appears to have slipped on the landing and lost his balance, though he's regained it quickly. We haven’t seen Nikiforov flub a jump like that in quite awhile. One has to wonder if something has happened.”

Shit. How could he have messed up a jump like that? He hasn't messed up a jump in years. He took a deep breath. Just focus on the program. Think of your passion. Victor's mind paused for a moment. Passion? 

“Nikiforov sets up for his second jump.”

What was his passion? 

“Triple axle! Ah! He touched down.”

Did he have passion?

“Next he's planned his signature move the quadruple flip”

He didn't know anymore,

“he's set up and!-”

everything just felt so-

“Victor Nikiforov has fallen on the ice!”

Dull.

***

Victor stared blankly at the screen. Yakov was speaking to him but he didn't hear any of it. Fifth place, with low marks in both presentation and technical skills. He blinked once more at the screen before standing and walking- silently- to the changing room. Not knowing, as one never can, that what he did next would change his life forever.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still shaken up after the NKH Trophy Victor finds himself wandering the streets of Japan

The lights were blinding as Victor moved through the streets of Japan, not really paying attention to the world around him, his mind running a mile a minute as his body instinctively moved him.

He'd fallen. 

After so many years and so much hard work he had fallen and placed lower than he ever had since entering competitive figure skating.

He couldn't believe it. He thought back to everything that had happened in the last few months. He'd been feeling less and less energetic this year but it felt like it had started earlier. A deep seated weight permanently resting on his back. He'd ignored it and for a long time he'd managed to keep it in the background. But it only seemed to grow heavier and heavier. 

He knew he wasn’t as young as he use to be and that more and more talent was being unveiled every year, newer fresher skaters with the stamina and athleticism he was slowly losing. It was only a matter of time before his title of the best was ripped from him, and he was scared.

He'd only ever had skating, and if it was taken from him he didn't know what he would do with himself. He didn't know if he was even capable of doing something else.

Those thoughts had become more common as the months passed, and for the first time Victor was afraid before a competition. He'd never been scared before. When he was young, if he didn't win there was always the next competition, and as he got older wining seemed definite. 

But now. 

Now he wasn't sure. 

He'd thought after winning the Rostelecom Cup the fear would just disappear. But if anything, it only got worse, and in the days leading up to the NHK Trophy he had barely eaten or slept. In retrospect he didn't know how he expected to preform well. And now his greatest fear had been realized. 

Victor sighed, trying to silence his thoughts for a second. He looked around and realized he had no idea where he was. The events after the kiss and cry we're a bit hazy, his mind had been running on autopilot. He was exhausted and all he had wanted to do was leave. So he did. Grabbing his things he had left the building and just started walking. Yakov probably thought it would be best to leave him. 

While he appreciated it, it also lead to him now being lost in a foreign country. He could turn around and try and find his way back, or use his phone, but he knew he didn't want to. Didn't want to go back and speak to journalists or face the other skaters. As he looked around, he noticed a train station. Well, Victor thought, he was already lost anyway. He'd just call Yakov later and tell him where he was on Google Maps. Until then he had a train to catch.

The train ride proved uneventful enough- it was late so there weren't as many people, and no one seemed to care he was walking with his skates in his hands. The ride was long, apparently going to Hasetsu. As the train moved, Victor tried to think of other things, or nothing at all, but he found his mind always returning to that moment.

“Victor Nikiforov has fallen on the ice!” The announcer's voice echoed through his brain. He wanted to pull his hair out, wanted to make it stop. 

In the end, the train stopped first.

As Victor made his way out of the station he noticed the sun had begun to rise. It was already morning. With a sigh he heaved his bag onto his shoulder and started walking, wanting to find a nice place to sit before he called Yakov.

The town was small and quaint. So much different from the city, loud and booming, never stopping, always moving. The city would be in full swing as it always was. But this town was resting. Sure, there were a few people up and about, but for the most part it was as if Hasetsu itself was still dreaming.

Victor calmed slightly as he walked through the town; there was something peaceful about it, like a long soak after a hard day. But then again, it could just be his exhaustion settling in. Eventually the road he was walking on lead to a large bridge overlooking the ocean. It was beautiful, and Victor felt a pull to stop and watch the waves. He could call Yakov later, he was probably asleep anyway. Victor sighed contently as he leaned against the railing. This was the calmest his mind had been all night. A smile touched his face as he stared out at the water, it reminded him of his home in Saint Petersburg. 

Saint Petersburg had been his home ever since he'd began studying under Yakov, and he loved the place with a passion. He loved the town, the ocean, his apartment, Makkachin. He also loved the rink, his rink mates, and even Yakov. Especially Yakov. For a long time he'd been the closest person to him. He'd joke occasionally that Yakov had practically raised him. Sometimes Victor wondered how much of him was joking when he said it. Sometimes he wondered if the silent look he'd get from the man meant he knew. Sometimes he wondered- 

Victors train of thought broke. He thought he heard someone. Looking around, he saw a man with a fishing pole standing beside him. The man spoke again, but Victor couldn't understand what he was saying. The confusion must have been evident as the man paused and hummed slightly. 

“Skater?” the man said, pointing to Victor's skates.

“Ah – yes,” Victor said, trying to put on his performer face and smiling at the man. The man smiled back.

“Skating rink under castle,” he said, pointing to the far left.

“Oh, thank you.” The man smiled again, preparing his rod, and Victor took one last look at the ocean before heading in the direction he had pointed.

It took some time, but Victor eventually found the rink the man had been referring to; Ice Castle. It made him uneasy, but he wasn't sure why. The place looked nice, clean, and there was really nothing wrong with the building, but the thought of the ice rink twisted his gut. Victor tried to shake the feeling; it was ridiculous, the ice had always been where he belonged. He felt good on the ice, felt free on the ice, but now the thought of stepping on to it left him unsettled. Maybe he just needed to skate and think. It had always helped before. 

With a deep breath, Victor stepped into the building.

He'd been right in his initial impression, the place really did look nice, though at the moment fairly empty. They must not be open yet. Victor went to leave, but he heard a woman's voice call from the back room. He couldn't understand what she said, but a hand appeared from around a corner and gestured toward the doors to the rink. Apparently she had heard him come in, and, if Victor guessed correctly, was signalling him in. While it was strange she didn't ask for money, Victor shrugged it off. Maybe the rink was free at certain times. Either way, he didn't really care, he just wanted to get on the ice. 

The rink was large but not very special. Not that it wasn't nice, but Victor had been to so many rinks in his life this one just seemed like all the others, and he took little notice as he laced up his skates. The twist in his gut came back when he stepped on the ice, but he pushed it down and began skating. Just some simple patterns, that should calm him. But it didn't. His limbs felt dull, and the ice felt lifeless. He didn't understand- why wasn't it working? He tried to speed up, skating faster and faster. More complex movement, spins, but it all felt like nothing. His heart ached, and he felt tears of frustration prickle his eyes. 

Why wouldn't it work! 

Faster! 

Faster! 

He moved.

He spun.

He jumped.

He fell.

Victor stared down at the ice beneath him and clutched his hands, bringing his head to rest against them, tears slipping onto the ice. He couldn't understand, why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he feel anything? When had he last felt something while skating?

Ah.

Victor brought his head up and stood. 

That’s right. 

The last time he'd felt alive while skating was the Grand Prix the year before. Not really thinking, he stood and moved his body into position. With his eyes closed he began.

When had he stopped feeling emotion when he skated?

When had his skating become lifeless?

When had he become lifeless?

His body moved smoothly to a music only he could hear. Gentle, like a silent prayer he moving with the graceful desperation of an angel clinging to God's feet. Skating had been his life, his heart, but it felt as if he'd lost it. The king of the skating world had fallen. Victor Nikiforov was dead. One jump, two, he could feel his body floating. He felt his body outside of himself as a part of him died. Voices spoke far in the background but Victor took no notice as he skated. This was it. His final farewell to everything he had known. A goodbye to skating, and a desperate plea for it to stay. Stay close to me, his body cried as he spun. Don't leave me, it begged. But he couldn't hold on. Not the way he was now. It was time to say goodbye. His body held strong, wrapping his arms around himself in the final pose. 

Victor's arms fell limply at his sides as he breathed hard.

The doors to the rink opened harshly and Victor snapped his head to the sound. A man and a woman entered the rink- the woman sounded like the same one from the counter. They stared at him in surprise, especially the man. He took a step forward, seemingly to check if what he saw before him was real.

“Victor?” the man asked, clearly confused. There was something about his voice that made Victor's chest hurt.

“Ah,” Victor said, “Do I know you?” He smiled softly, eyes blurred slightly.

“Victor? Victor!” The man called out, but Victor barely registered it, exhaustion finally settling in. His body became weightless, and he fell to the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay a second chapter! Finally! Sorry this took so long >.< things have just been really really crazy lately. Anyway I hope you like this chapter and please let me know what you think! My tumblr is [mermaidstrandedonland](http://mermaidstrandedonland.tumblr.com/) if you wanna check me out

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next chapters arent going to be this short, this was mostly kind of an opening scene.  
> This is going to be my first multi-chaptered fanfic so I hope you join me on this journey! And check out my tumblr at [mermaidstrandedonland](http://mermaidstrandedonland.tumblr.com/)


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